Tears
by Miss Scarlet
Summary: A new series detailing moments where people in the Harry Potter world can only cry. So far we've got Petunia, Filch and Draco. Give it a read.
1. Jealousy: Petunia's Tears

Petunia's Tears

It's the happiest day of my life. So why do I feel so empty?

As a child, I had always hoped for more than this. I wanted to be swept away into a world of fairy tales and marry a prince. I wanted to ride a unicorn and fly on a dragon. I wanted to own my own business or an island in the South Pacific. Instead I got Vernon Dursley.

I should be happy, like any young bride about to marry into a wealthy family. Vernon has his own firm, I was told. He's a very nice man. You'll be very happy with him. You were destined to be together. 

Only I had thought I was destined for more than this.

Is this why I am crying on my Wedding Day?

My destiny was stolen from me, and handed to my sister on a platter. She got the fantastical life I should have had. Why her? Why her and not me? I always pretended to her and myself that I didn't care, and that her magic was disgusting, but deep down I longed for it, and I think I still do.

I will have to settle down and forget about it, and live a pointless life doing pointless things. A woman with big ideals stuck in a terraced house, on a street of terraced houses, in a town of terraced houses, in a world of people just like me. Because who ever achieves their dreams? I don't. I haven't. I won't. Lily got my dreams.

And I try not to be jealous but I just can't help it. Every time I think of her my heart feels like it's about to burst, and I clench my fists and I feel like I am about to be sick. 

Is this all my life holds for me? To wake up every morning to see Vernon, to stay home all day and lead a life so pointless that when I die I will know that I have achieved absolutely nothing? And I know I should be happy, and these tears rolling down my face should be of happiness, and not out of sadness or frustration.

So I didn't invite her to my wedding. And I don't know where she is now, but I know that she is not sitting downstairs with my mother and my aunt and a whole host of people who don't understand me. My mother was furious with me for not inviting Lily; she is proud of her daughter, proud of what she has become. Why can't my mother be proud of me? I went through education, I've had a simple yet poorly paid job, I've got engaged and I'm about to be married. Somehow that isn't enough for me. I have an insane desire to just go outside and run until it hurts, and run so fast I think I'm going to fall head over heels. I want to start over.

In a better world I wouldn't have a witch for a sister, I wouldn't have a sister at all. She stole something irreplaceable from me, and the fact that she didn't do it on purpose only makes it worse. I wish she could pass some of that magic onto me. Something special, something that sets me apart. I don't want to be like everyone else, I want to be singular, and unusual.

But I'm just plain old Petunia Evans, soon to be Petunia Dursley. And I'm still waiting for some life-changing miracle to lift me from this dreary existence. 

It's the happiest day of my life, and I greet it with tears in my eyes. At my wedding, I will raise a glass to the future, and drown the reality of my failure with sweet champagne, and wonder what happened to my little sister.

I'm not sure who to do next, so any suggestions on who to do and why they are crying will be greatly appreciated. Petunia is a rather strange person to start with, but I think she has a pretty good reason to cry ^_^. Please review anyway, and keep checking back for the next part!


	2. Fear: Draco's Tears

I didn't cry much when I was little; at least I don't think I did. I don't remember crying at all, really. I have never been passionate enough about something to cry, I suppose. It wasn't encouraged in my family. A man does not cry, someone once told me. Only boys cry. You are not a boy, I told myself. You can't cry. So I didn't.

My earliest memory of crying would be when I was about nine. It was a strange day. The strangest, actually. Nothing would ever be the same for me after that. I still remember it so well. I suppose things like that stick in your memory. 

I had just come back from a quick game of Quidditch with a few mates. I was tired, yet triumphant. We'd won the match, of course. I made my way to the drawing room, where I could hear my mother and father talking. Something made me hesitate outside the door, instead of bursting in, and in a way I'm quite glad I did. I know they say ignorance is bliss but you are always better off knowing what is going on around you. That's a philosophy I have stood by for a long time.

Anyway, I think they were arguing. My own parents, arguing. That was new to me. My parents didn't argue it just wasn't what happened. So I stood outside the door and listened. Their conversation went something like this:

"Lucius, I'm not saying that you did the wrong thing, I just think"

"You just think I screwed it all up, don't you?"

"Well, supposing Voldemort does come back into power you haven't made it very easy for yourself. He might not welcome you back, and the community is getting suspicious."

"What do you mean? Of course Voldemort will come back into power!"

At this point I was just a little confused. I had heard of Voldemort of course, and I had never thought too badly of him. I was brought up that way. So what on earth was the problem?

"Yes, but if he doesn't -"

"Then we will continue living like we are now? Is that a problem for you Narcissa? Do you not agree with our way of life?"

"That's not what I mean!"

"Then say what you mean, for God's sake!"

This went on for what seemed like hours. And it really worried me. Like most children, I had grown up with the belief firmly implanted inside myself that my parents were the best in the world. They were perfect. And hearing them arguing really brought it home to me. My parents weren't perfect at all. They weren't nice people. 

"Narcissa! You will do as I order you too!" And he hit her.

So I cried. 

I didn't know what else I could do. It was like having your whole world taken away and replaced with something hollow and meaningless. All my childhood had just been destroyed. I think my tears were understandable. 

And that was the day I grew up. I'm not talking about your hormones, or any of your biology rubbish, I'm talking inside. Something died that day. Some part of me. I have trouble respecting my family now. Every time I look at my father I think about how he could be better, and how he used to treat my mother and me. People say that out of fear comes respect. For me, all that came out of fear was even more fear. 

Perhaps that is why I feel the need to rebel, and prove myself as an individual. I'm not just Lucius Malfoy's son you know. I'm Draco Malfoy. I'm my own person. I'm different. Don't just write me off as another Malfoy. Don't tar me with the same brush. That's what I'm really afraid of. Yeah, I care for him, and my mum, but I can't help the way I feel. They've let me down. 

So, because I came home and heard my parents fighting, and he hit her, I became a new person. As I look back, I realise that I'm not that different from Dad. Do you know how scared that makes me feel? I have to protect my mother from him. She doesn't deserve this. I don't. Do I?

And every day I live in fear that I will end up hitting my wife, whoever she may be. I am not Lucius Malfoy. I'm Draco. I'm not afraid to live my own life, and cause as much trouble as I want, and annoy whoever the hell I like, because I am me. Nobody else.

I'm running a race. A very special race. I don't know how much longer I can run from my family. One day my genes are going to catch up with me. And on that day I will cry again. 

Do you like it? I hope so. Please review me, I don't know what I'd do without my reviews. I owe you one, people. Anyway, I don't have a clue who to do next. I'm mulling it over. Until then


	3. Shame: Argus Filch's Tears

Shame:

**Shame: Argus Filch's Tears**

I was born into a wizarding family. I won't bother denying it. I spent all of my childhood wondering when my magic would kick in. It'll happen tomorrow, I told myself every night as I went to sleep. But it never did. Do you know how that feels? To wake in the morning, _every morning_, pick up your brother's wand and wave it with the utmost concentration, only to have your hopes quashed when nothing, as usual, happens? I don't think you can.

It was excruciating. My family expected me to be a wizard. All the people around me were wizards. Why? Why couldn't I be one too?

Kids today, they don't understand the gift they have. They take it for granted. Oh, sure, _magic_, they say. What's new? It's second nature to them – just like sleeping, eating or breathing. It's something they've known since their births, and something I've been denied since mine.

Squib. What kind of word is that? It's degrading, that's what. It makes me sound like a slug, or the bastard son of an octopus and a squirrel. I don't deserve that, surely. It's the wizards who deserve the degrading name. The wizards who look down upon me just because I was unfortunate. They just sneer, and nudge each other. "_Look at the squib_," they whisper to each other. Even the sympathetic ones are bad. They tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself.

Well, _excuse me_! Pardon me if I appear _bitter_. By the way, I'm considered to be a blight on the wizarding world. Wherever I go I'm either mocked or ignored. And how are you today?

Sometimes, well, no, all the time, I feel like a Peeping Tom from the gutter, staring through the window at an upper class party, with music and dancing and little cakes on fancy paper plates. That's what magic is to me. A forbidden world of hidden delights, and all I can do is watch from the sidelines. Like the entire world is a Quidditch match, and I'm the only spectator. Well, me and the muggles, I suppose.

That's the thing, see. I would prefer to be a muggle. Ignorance is bliss, they say. And it is! How I long to be a muggle, with no knowledge of wizards, or magic, or annoying school children who quite frankly should not be allowed to hold a wand. I wouldn't know what I'm missing out on.

I remember what my mother always used to say to me. "Don't worry, dear. You're just a late starter, that's all. It doesn't make you any less of a wizard than the other boys. You'll get your magic soon, sweetie, and you'll go to Hogwarts, just like your brother." I know I didn't imagine the doubtful look in her eyes. "It'll happen, Argus. Don't rush things."

Ha! Shows what she knows! 

I remember the last day of august all too well. I spent the entire day looking out of the window for an owl to swoop down out of the blue, and give me the letter to say I was accepted into Hogwarts. It never came. My father stood beside me for most of the time, stiff backed and emotionless. I knew what he was thinking. He was ashamed of me.

Oh, I was ashamed of myself. Still am, in fact.

My father didn't speak. He took me to Scotland, to Hogwarts, to see the Headmaster. I sat outside, cowering under the bemused glances I received from passing children in robes, respecting and hating them simultaneously. Are they so much better than me? Am I so undeserving?

So now all I have is my _Magical Mess Remover_. It wouldn't work on me – I may be a mess, but I'm not magical. I'm not sure if I am grateful towards Dumbledore, or furious with him. He gave me a job. Imagine that! A squib, working in a wizard school. For a while, I felt like a proper wizard. I felt special, just like one of the teachers. It didn't last long. Oh, no.

Still, perhaps tomorrow I'll wake up with powers. Perhaps no, perhaps not. I've already thrown my life away on a false hope – no point in doing it again. What? No, I'm not crying. Of course not. What do I have to cry about? I'm as happy as a Forget it.

Oh, look at the time. Your detention is over. Go on, kid, make yourself scarce. I don't want to see you in my office again, you hear? I'll be fine. Don't worry. Now stop fussing, and leave me alone. Get out of here, girl. I'm sure you've learned your lesson.

Heh the cheek of it. Cry? Me? Nonsense. My eyes are watering, that's all. And that's the annoying thing about shame. It never leaves you. Never. Come on then, Mrs. Norris. I still have to clean that muddy corridor upstairs. The floor won't clean itself, you know.

Thanks for all the smashing reviews, people. I really appreciate it. So who next? I'm thinking of Ron or Remus, but I'm not sure why they would cry without falling into any obvious clichés. So, I need your ideas again! (Where would I be without you?)


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